


It's too cold outside

by Chiefjolras



Series: stuck in his daydream [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, the A Team (song)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1664315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiefjolras/pseuds/Chiefjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off an au idea while listening to The A Team, by Gavin Mikhail.  Set after college, les amis were set for great things, but something went wrong for Grantaire, and he ended up in a less than fortunate place.  Enjolras, however, stumbles across him after late-night/early-morning revision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's too cold outside

"You can't help those who simply will not be helped. One problem that  
we've had, even in the best of times, is people who are sleeping on  
the grates, the homeless who are homeless, you might say, by choice.”

  
Enjolras snapped the book shut in frustration, hating the words as he read them. There was no way he’d ever accept that as true. He groaned, sliding his books off the table and into his bag and standing up. Somehow it was two in the morning, and yet after losing count of his caffeine intake, he was still awake, only a lot more disillusioned with the prospect of revision than he was earlier that night. Casting one last look around to check he hadn’t left anything behind, Enjolras left, walking unhurriedly to the door and cursing quietly as he saw the horribly familiar figure leaning against the doorframe.  
“I’ve told you before, ‘Parnasse. I’m not interested. Leave me alone.” He said bluntly, pushing past and hearing a quiet noise,  
“You just knocked my hat off, darling. It’s dirty now…” The man crooned, his voice deceptively smooth as he walked beside Enjolras.  
“Leave me alone.” He said again, not even turning to look at him, despite hearing the soft footsteps crunch in the snow behind him. “Look, Montparnasse, I’ve got an exam tomorrow and I don’t need this right now. I can call Eponine. She’ll make you move…” The footsteps behind him faltered, and Enjolras couldn’t resist a small smile. He’d never thought that conversation with Gavroche’s sister could have ever come in useful. She’d said once that she threatened to unpick all of the stitching on her friend’s clothes, and for some reason the information had filed itself in the back of Enjolras’ mind for future reference.

  
After hearing the man’s footsteps melt into the snow, Enjolras finally slowed his pace in order to admire the scene before him. It had been snowing heavily when he had entered the library, and he was thankful that Combeferre had forced a scarf on him in addition to the red duffle-coat that he had bought recently. His cheeks were still rosy in a matter of moments, with snowflakes speckling the hair that poked out from under the dark green slouch hat that he’d kept since college.

  
His thoughts trailed as he walked, and he wondered vaguely whether his old friend had kept his own red hat. They had ‘Leavers 2011’ embroidered on them, and their friendship group had all got their favourite colours, and swapped them around randomly- it just so happened that he and Grantaire had directly exchanged. They were both headed to good universities, and while Enjolras had continued to fulfil his desires, studying History of Law, contact with Grantaire had steadily depleted. He didn’t usually think about the boy- man- he used to share his schooldays with, but every so often, on days like these, memories stirred. He let out a huff of breath which clouded in front of him, and glanced behind him to check whether Montparnasse was still following. He squinted, distinguishing a silhouette lingering beneath a streetlamp, and turned into an alley, not wanting to be followed. It was darker in the alleys, but the snow seemed to light everything with a lucidity that calmed Enjolras.

  
In a heartbeat though, the serenity was broken and Enjolras was roused from his memories as raucous laughter cut through the frozen air. Usually such a noise wouldn’t perturb him, but at half two in the morning in a back alley of Paris, it struck a discordant note. He walked slightly faster towards the sound, frowning as he discerned a voice amongst the laughs repeating “Stop. Please, don’t…” and finally broke into a run when the voice shouted “Get off!”  
By the time he’d arrived, the crowd of men was sauntering into the distance, and Enjolras slowed to a walk, wondering what could have happened. Just as he was about to turn around, he heard a shuffle in the snow which brought his attention to a small huddled shape by the wall. He scowled, walking towards the shape, “Hello?” He asked, his voice breaking the silence just as the laughter had, “Excuse me, are you alright?”  
The shape coughed and stirred, a pale face looking up from the blanket in which it was concealed, “If you want me, you’ll have to pay.” The man said, his voice weak as he peered at Enjolras. His lips were parted slightly, and were pale- almost blue, and Enjolras shook his head, dropping his bag as he stepped forwards and crouched in front of the man, “It’s too cold… Are you an angel? Are you my Angel?” He asked, the coarse nature of his voice making the beautiful words sound ugly, “It’s too cold to fly.”

  
His voice had softened, and Enjolras hesitated, noticing the tone of his voice. He’d heard that before… He’d known that voice. Had profound conversations with it, been criticised by it and shouted in response to it. The man looked up at him again, pushing the blanket away from his face as he smiled emptily, “You are my Angel.” He said softly, and Enjolras’ breath hitched as he saw that he was clutching a piece of red fabric to his chest.  
“Grantaire…”


End file.
